


Wouldn't you love to love her?

by Clockwork



Series: Casting Spells [4]
Category: American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: F/F, Memory Loss, Old Friends, Stevie Nicks - Freeform, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, Witchcraft, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 22:18:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15591987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clockwork/pseuds/Clockwork
Summary: Chapter 3. Misty is returned safely to Miss Robichaux's, still without her memory. Cordelia works on jogging things into place with herbalism, Stevie Nicks, and feelings she still can not suppress.Ongoing series.





	Wouldn't you love to love her?

Cordelia still isn’t sure how they convinced Misty to come with them back to the Academy. More importantly, Zoe and Queenie convinced her to while Cordelia swallowed down the pain of not being recognized. She may be Supreme, but she was still a woman with a heart. A heart that in that moment had crumbled.

Misty had question after question as they drove back. Wanting to know who she was, how she came to be in that tomb, who they were. They answered the easy ones, introducing themselves and talking about the Academy. They asked her what she remembered and Misty went quiet then, no longer speaking as she stared out the window.

She was still ignoring them when they got to the Academy, moving her into Cordelia’s room at the insistence of their Supreme.

Now, as the sun began to rise and the other girls were beginning their day, Zoe and Queenie had gone off to act in their place in the Academy, leaving Misty and Cordelia alone.

Misty sat at the foot of the bed, legs dangling with her head turned sideways to stare out the window rather than looking at Cordelia. It was heartbreaking to the Supreme, seeing Misty looking how she had been the last time she had seen her, taking the Seven Wonders. Just as she had been in Cordelia’s arms when she had turned to dust. 

“Tell me again,” Misty said, finally turning her head to look at Cordelia. “Tell me again what happened.”

Instead of telling her though, Cordelia offered her hand. “Come with me. You weren’t here often. Let me take you somewhere that might help,’ she said, not couching it as an offer but rather a soft demand to try and help Misty recover who she was.

In the state she was in, Misty didn’t even question things, merely rising from the soft mattress as she took Cordelia’s hand. “Fine then. Show me.”

Cordelia was certain it was all in her mind that she felt a tingling along her palm as Misty took her hand. Wishful thinking or not, she let her fingers close around Misty’s and guided her through the house. Not caring about the once ivory nightgown she wore that was now streaked with brick dust that looked like old dried blood coated to her clothes and hair. Not caring that she was walking with a witch that should be dead and gone, not only her spirit trapped in Hell but her body turned to ash in Cordelia’s arms. None of that matter. Not when Misty’s hand was warm and real in hand, still bearing the calluses and rough spots of a woman that worked the Earth with her hands and was stronger for it.

Thankfully it was easy to avoid most of the other girls, and those that did see them took one look at their Supreme’s mussed appearance, the countenance of her expression, and they quickly went the other way.

As usual there was no one in the greenhouse where Cordelia spent so much less time than she once had. Perhaps it is a bit more overgrown than it had once been, but the loving touch of one that truly cherished the plants and people of the Academy was still evident in the verdant plants and the neat workspaces.

“Don’t think this is what I had in mind when you said to follow you,” Misty admitted, and Cordelia could hear a bit of the humor in her words. At least there was that. Maybe it was a good sign.

“When you first came here to us, you had many skills. Resurgence, for one, that let you bring others back from the dead.”

“This is that witchcraft you and the others were talking about in the car, right?”

Cordelia nodded. “Exactly that. We all come by one or two things naturally. Some gain even more as time goes on. Others are learned. Recently those of this house saw a shift, due to the last supreme being unwilling to declare an heir as she was dying. The result was many of us manifesting multiple powers in a short time. You though, you had gifts before you came here. Gifts much more than your resurgence.”

It was only as she squeezed Misty’s hand that Cordelia realized she was still holding her hand. Reluctantly she let go. 

“You had spent so much time out in the swamps, doing what you could for yourself and the land and others that you had developed a healing touch I don’t often see in another. You were connected to the plants and the land, just as I have always been. Though your gift with healing was amazing. Truly a thing of beauty. You weren’t with us long before everything started to go bad, but you and I spent time down here, sharing our gifts with one another and so I thought it might help with your memory.”

Even as Cordelia spoke, Misty wandered the room. She touched a plant here, adjusted another one there. Her fingers trailed in the soil of the pots, picking up some and rubbing it between her fingers. 

“Sharing our gifts, huh?” The look she gives Cordelia is fairly scandalous, causing the supreme to actually blush. “I’m guessing you don’t mean like that then.”

“I meant it in the truest sense. We spent several hours here working on spells and the craft, sharing our knowledge. Neither of us had ever had someone to share those things with, to not have to hide certainly, but also have those with a share interest. As you’ll learn here, many of our witches are modern in every sense of the word, and you and I aren’t always in that mindset. Especially when it comes to medicine and healing.”

:Leaning back against the table, Misty tugged the shawl she wore about her a bit more tightly, fingers tangling into the fringe at the edge of the fabric. 

“So I was a witch, who could bring people back from the dead, and I dabbled in herbs and plants. And I went to Hell by choice,” she said, laughing under her breath at that very thought. 

“The last part sounds kind of crazy, I know.” And it did. Who would go to Hell by choice?

“Oh no, all of it sounds crazy,” Misty admitted, giving Cordelia a look. “Except that it sounds… I don’t know. It sounds right. When you say it, I can feel it here,” she said, putting one shawl encased hand to her chest. “I just can’t find it here,” she added, tapping her temple. “I guess that’s because I was in Hell for… how long?”

“It’s been six months, five days and a few hours since you… since your body turned to ash in the parlor. We bartered your soul for another. In truth, we did it badly despite how hard we worked on it. It only hit me after you didn’t recognize us that we hadn’t asked about a body, about your life, about a memory. We could have opened a tomb and found your body and nothing more. Or you might have become another ghost in this house.”

Misty shuddered at that thought. “But you think I still have my memories despite that?”

“Cordelia nodded. “I know you do.”

“How? How can you know that, Ms Supreme?”

Cordelia crossed to where Misty stood, moving slowly but without hesitation as she brought up her hand to rest over Misty’s heart. “Because you still can feel us and this place. Here. You can feel us here, which means that eventually your mind will remember as well.”

“And if it doesn’t? What happens if I never remember?”

Cordelia didn’t need to be a witch, or the Supreme, to sense the uncertainty in her voice and see it in her eyes. She only had to be a woman that cared deeply about the woman before her.

“If you never remember, then we start new memories. We help you to practice what is naturally part of you, and we teach you all that you’ve lost and will need.” Even though Cordelia knew that was impossible. There were things about healing and the swamp that might well be lost forever is Misty never remembered. That was a bridge they would have to cross later. Much later, after they crossed the bridge for memories. If they ever got through that and found their way. 

“Just like that? You don’t even question it? Question if I’m who you actually wanted? I mean, if I’m not her, who am I?”

Cordelia stayed where she was, close to the point of nearly crowding Misty, with her hand still resting on her chest against her breastbone. At least for a moment before letting her touch slip away. Even though she stayed close.

“You are still Misty Day. You are still a powerful witch. You are still part of this household. You were meant to be here forever, until you chose to leave. Not because my mother was a poor Supreme who would rather watch us kill one another than name a successor, but because you wanted to leave us. Which, I hope, never happens though… you are free to. At any time.”

“Even after you bargained with the devil for my soul?”

“With Papa Legba actually, but yes. You are not a prisoner. We freed you. Which means, you are free to do anything you want. Short of starting another war within these walls.”

Misty snorted at that, rolling her eyes. “I don’t think I’m one for war.”

“No, I don’t think you are either, though you are who I would have at my side if there was a war.”

Misty smiled then, even if her gaze was a bit watery. “Okay then. So, what now?”

“Now? Now we work on cleaning this place up a bit. I’ve neglected it with my duties as Supreme and I think we could both use some time with the soil and the plants,” she said, crossing away from Misty to where a small mp3 player and speakers were set up atop one of the wood benches. 

Turning on the only playlist she ever listened to once Zoe had gotten her the device, Cordelia set to work as the first words began to fill the room, singing softly as she worked.

“Rhiannon rings like a bell through the night and  
Wouldn't you love to love her?  
Takes to the sky like a bird in flight and  
Who will be her lover?”


End file.
